


i pull you a little closer one step at a time

by thegrayness



Series: with our hands over our hearts [10]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Goat Cheese Discourse, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 18:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: “You want Heather to discontinue my favorite goat cheese?” David said, and Patrick would call it dramatic, but if he’s being honest it’s pretty on par with David’s other feelings about cheese.----Patrick just wants to make out.





	i pull you a little closer one step at a time

**Author's Note:**

> Another pile of nothing. 🙃
> 
> Based on a totally not real situation that definitely didn't happen to me wherein two people got distracted from making out and somehow ended up discussing different kinds of ice cream. [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing) suggested modifications so I didn't have to do research. Thanks.
> 
> title from [you don't know](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KztV93idYN4) by leon bridges

Patrick loved to watch David cook. He felt… privileged to be able to see David in this kind of creative headspace. David would grab some stuff from the fridge and pantry and then he’d just… go. Or, sometimes, like this time, he’d ask Patrick to grab some stuff from the fridge and pantry—and Patrick was always delighted to be involved in David’s process. 

So, Patrick grabbed the lettuce and tomatoes and the container of bacon David had cooked in bulk the day before from the fridge, while David got out the cutting board and sharpened his tomato knife and arranged the bread slices in a neat row. 

“Can you grab the truffle mayo, too?” David asked as Patrick was coming back around with his haul. He set everything on the counter and leaned in to kiss David’s cheek. David had dropped his shoulder and tilted his head in anticipation, so it seemed like Patrick had made this part of the process something of a habit. 

“Truffle mayo,” Patrick confirmed, placing the jar next to the rest of their sandwich ingredients. 

“Thanks, honey.” David grinned at him, pausing his lettuce tearing, and it seemed Patrick had made this final step something of a habit, as well. He leaned in again, this time pressing a gentle kiss to David’s smiling lips and reached a hand up to stroke over his cheek. 

Patrick still got such a rush from kissing David, even after two years of marriage. Not that Patrick thought two years was a long time, but when they’d first started dating, he kept waiting for the spike of heat and the flush of cheeks every time they kissed to, well, wear off. He’d expected the shininess of their relationship to dull, even a little, as time went on and they settled into something more comfortable. But, well, it was thrilling and comfortable and exciting and familiar all at once, right through to this moment as Patrick mumbled a _ thank you for making lunch _ against David’s lips.

They ate on the couch, David sitting sideways so he could tuck his feet under Patrick’s thigh, and listened to Chip and Johanna wax poetic about shiplap and farmhouse decor. David would share his own opinions on the items they selected and Patrick would nod in agreement or comment on a color change. 

It was their usual Sunday lunch routine, and Patrick could never have imagined the joy in sitting on the couch and eating lunch on Sundays with David. When he finished his sandwich—lightyears before David, who always got distracted by whatever show—he tugged at one of David’s ankles and pulled a socked foot into his lap. 

David groaned and took another bite of his sandwich, flexing his foot in Patrick’s grasp. Patrick dug his thumb into the ball of the foot, rubbing it down to David’s arch. “What a life,” David mumbled before swallowing his bite. “Foot massage and sandwiches. Livin’ the dream, honey.”

Patrick hummed, grinning at his husband. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am.”

Rolling his eyes, but trying to hide a pleased smile, David ate the last bits of his sandwich and leaned over to deposit his plate on the table. He pulled his foot back to tuck in under Patrick’s thigh and stretched his other foot out for the same luxurious treatment. 

Patrick turned his attention back to _ Fixer Upper _ but was still mostly distracted by David, who had scooted his butt closer to Patrick to make room at the other end of the couch so he could recline all the way back. David stretched his arms over his head, sweater riding up his torso to expose the dark line of hair along his abdomen. Biting his lip, Patrick let his mind drift back to the night before, where he paid _ a lot _ of attention to that patch of skin, and Patrick noticed the purpling marks he’d left there as proof. 

He’d just decided he was going to move David’s feet and climb up over him to spend the rest of the afternoon kissing, but he was pulled out of his daydream as David fumbled for the remote to mute the TV. “Oh, _ speaking _ of farm animals!” He said. Patrick blinked… _ were _ they talking about farm animals? “Heather told me the other day she’s thinking of discontinuing the blueberry, lemon, and thyme goat cheese.”

Patrick nodded, because he _ was _ listening—he was definitely listening to what his husband was saying—and moved David’s feet away, getting his own knees on their side of David’s legs. He knee-walked up the couch a bit, settling his weight across David’s thighs. David had stopped talking and was giving him an amused smile, hands floating over to rest on Patrick’s hips. “Well, it makes sense,” Patrick muttered, leaning down to kiss him, feeling David’s hands squeeze at his hips. 

David’s lips were warm and lush, and Patrick swept his tongue out to push into David’s mouth. David sighed, sliding his hands under Patrick’s t-shirt to pull him closer. Patrick pulled away for a second to shuffle his position, stretching his body all along David’s on the couch. He took David’s mouth again, relishing in the soft, pleased noises David was making in his throat. Helpless whimpers that Patrick knew David wasn’t even aware he was making, driving Patrick crazy as he slid his tongue to rub against David’s. 

The roof of David’s mouth was one of the most familiar places Patrick could think of, ridges he’d mapped out for hours on the narrow bed in David’s old room, so narrow that, well, _ we’re so close we might as well make out _ was an excuse they’d often told themselves when they wanted to get handsy while Moira and Johnny were next door. They’d kissed for so long one afternoon that Patrick had been concerned his lips would be too raw and bruised—that he wouldn’t be able to eat spicy food for dinner that evening, or drink hot tea the next day, or kiss David every minute of every day for the foreseeable future. 

His lips had been fine, but the next day he’d rung himself up one the lip balms next to the register. 

Laid out on the couch, Patrick was sucking on David’s tongue, vaguely aware that he was pressing his hips right up against David’s dick, when David made a noise of protest and pulled away. 

“Did you say ‘that makes sense’?” He asked, lips brushing Patrick’s cheek. Patrick didn’t really follow the question, just hummed in response and nipped at David’s jawline, licking down to his ear lobe. David pinched his side and Patrick jerked back. “Did you say it makes sense that Heather wants to discontinue the blueberry goat cheese?” David repeated, getting a palm on Patrick's chest and pushing him away slightly. 

Patrick gave a slow blink and furrowed his brow. _ Did he say that? _“What?” He leaned down again to get back to kissing, but David shimmied himself far enough away without toppling right off the couch. 

“_Patrick_.” David’s voice was taking on a tone that indicated a distressing discussion was imminent. Patrick groaned and dropped his head to David’s shoulder, but David shoved at his chest and he sat up again.

“David.” Patrick ran his hand through his hair, silently lamenting his lips’ distance from David’s. 

“You want Heather to discontinue my favorite goat cheese?” David said, and Patrick would call it dramatic, but if he’s being honest it’s pretty on par with David’s other feelings about cheese. He ran his hands over David’s chest, soothing his husband. Patrick was starting to connect the threads of the conversation in his mind. _ Oh. _

“I mean. It’s her worst-selling variety, so it makes sense. But, no, David. Of course I don’t _ want _ Heather to discontinue your favorite goat cheese.” David pouted but seemed mollified with the data as evidence, and Patrick lowered himself back down, happy to get his mouth back on David’s skin. He gently pulled at the collar of David’s sweater (Patrick knew which sweaters he was allowed to do this with) so he could get at a little bit of shoulder. He pressed tiny kisses to the newly exposed skin, smiling at David’s quiet, encouraging noises. 

Patrick was glad they were back on track, as it were, unappealing blueberry goat cheese discourse behind them. The cheese wasn’t even that good if Patrick was being honest. The clover blossom honey variety was way better, anyway. 

David pulled away abruptly again and Patrick whined this time. “The _ clover blossom honey _ flavor is way better?” David was incredulous. 

_ Did I say that out loud? _

David opened his mouth to—no doubt—prove to Patrick exactly why the blueberry was the superior goat cheese offering from Heather’s farm, but Patrick was absolutely not interested in anything other than kissing David until they couldn’t anymore. 

“David,” he said, cupping his cheeks and stopping his speech before it started. “I love you. I’m sure the blueberry is better. _ Please _—just let me make out with you?” For a second Patrick thought David was going to continue their cheese discussion, but he just smirked up at Patrick, grabbed a fistful of Patrick’s t-shirt and yanked him in for a kiss. 

They ate dinner, gingerly, at their kitchen table, after slathering on several coats of Rose Apothecary lip balm. 


End file.
